


Lipgloss

by MoonyJ4M



Series: deep end 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Winchesters, Established Relationship, F/M, Gender Identity, Queer Sam Week, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 17:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1950120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonyJ4M/pseuds/MoonyJ4M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam thought she would have some time alone to try on lipgloss, but things didn't go exactly how she expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lipgloss

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day seven of queer!Sam week on tumblr. I drew [this fanart](http://bananadaiquiri.tumblr.com/post/91672641117) first and then based the fic on it; who would have though I'd have such a good time writing it.
> 
> Updated in December 2015 with a few changes in grammar. Thanks to Askee for beta reading it.

**Richmond, Kentucky - 1997**

 

"Where the fuck are you, Samantha?”

Sam flinched at the name Dean thought would be a good idea for a joke and dropped the lipgloss on the sink. She would spend the next few weeks cursing herself for not hearing him arrive.

“C’mon, we got to--”

Sam was still fumbling with her stuff when Dean opened the door. She could swear time was suspended then; Dean’s mouth didn’t get the memo that he had stopped talking and he gaped like a fish for a second while he took in the whole picture.

“I’m gonna…,” Sam starts, a new spike of panic rising as she heard Dad’s familiar steps in the front door. Dean closed the bathroom door a little behind himself almost as reflex. “I’m gonna pack”, she finally says, proud of how her voice didn’t tremble so bad and wiping her lips with her hand. Thank God she hadn’t tried the eyeliner yet.

Dean doesn’t move from where he is blocking the door immediately and they just stare at each other for a while, Sam doing her best to look defiant enough to distract them both from the fact that she could cry. Dean finally shrugs a little sheepishly and opens the door wider, still not saying anything. Sam lets the lipgloss slide into the trashcan in her way out.

They left the motel not long after that, Sam riding shotgun with Dean in the Impala and Dad’s truck a little ahead. They stop at a red light before going out of town; Sam knows the silence would be oppressive if it wasn’t for the third AC/DC song blaring on the radio, and she is still bracing herself for a joke that hadn’t come yet. Any moment now. Any moment she will have to explain and God knows how long it would take before--

“Stop thinking so loud, dude,” Dean says all of a sudden, the last word lost in a grimace as if he’d regretted using it. When Sam says nothing in return, he takes something out of his jacket and puts it on the dashboard in front of her.

Sam knows he is looking at her but she couldn’t look back, not right now. She takes the small tube of lipgloss in her hands and holds it there, not sure of what to make of it.

The light turns green and they keep going.

 

**Lebanon, Kansas - May 2nd, 2020**

 

“Please don’t tell me you were running.”

“Working out, actually.”

Dean sighs dramatically, filling his mug with coffee. He is wearing the gray robe that had become his second skin in the mornings and his hair looked like it hadn’t seen a comb since the day before.

“I did try to go outside but it was freezing,” she continues, taking off her hoodie. “You should go run with me sometime, though.”

“Right, ‘cause you _just_ gave me a good reason to do that.”

Some things never change. Sam was trying to fix the mess her hair had become and was concentrated enough in remaking her bun to just notice Dean watching her after a while.

"What?”

“Nothing. You’re beautiful, you know that?”

“Who would've known you’d become such a sap in your old age.”

“I’m not _old_. And I changed my mind, you smell.”

Sam throws the hoodie in his face and goes out of the kitchen, taking the bottle of water with her and not trying to hide a smile. Life is easier now, and they are getting used to it. She goes back to the kitchen after a well deserved shower and Dean is still there, reading some file while fixing two plates with eggs.

“Garth asked for some info about wendigos,” he explains as Sam makes her way to the dishes.

“Really? Been a while since we heard about one.”

Sam is about to turn back to the table with her mug when Dean stands behind her, holding her waist almost reverently. She doesn’t try to move again, content in letting him unmade her hair and kiss her nape lightly.

“Changed your mind again?”

“Uh-huh," he says low in her ear and Sam shivers. She turns to him, still inside the circle made by his arms, and has to tilt her neck a little to start a kiss. It took her a long, long time to not feel weird about being taller than Dean, to not freak out thinking if it would make people _notice_ ; after all, it wouldn’t matter if they could go somewhere where no one knew them if she was still going to draw attention for being that tall and broad. But now she kinda likes how she can envelop Dean in her arms and he will still insist on being the big spoon, making a home for his head on the curve of her neck.

Sam’s still all warm inside when they finally sit down to eat. It is a good day, it is a good life after thinking things would never get in the right track for so long, and sometimes she can still barely believe it. She notices then that there is a little paper box in front of her plate.

She glances at Dean again before opening, and he is making a show of pretending to eat without looking at her.

It was lipgloss.

Dean knows she doesn’t use that a lot and what she has is enough for when she wants to, but she didn’t think he would remember _that_. She could swear it was even the same color. Sam tries to think of what exactly had prompted such a specific present like this; it was probably some of Dean’s weird anniversaries, like that time he wanted to celebrate the second anniversary of the Impala’s new upholstery.

It didn’t matter, though. It’s not like she really needed a special date to be glad about that day. She’d been so afraid and even though Dean still slipped and struggled in the way to understand her, he did try his best and eventually became her greatest supporter. Maybe the only one, actually. Yeah, she didn’t need a special date.

“Happy birthday, Samantha,” he says, and it isn’t a joke at all.  


End file.
